


It's All Fun and Games Until . . .

by bgrrl



Category: Beverly Hills 90210 (1990)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 19:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bgrrl/pseuds/bgrrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was all just a game until he saw the look in Brandon's eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's All Fun and Games Until . . .

**Author's Note:**

  * For [therumjournals](https://archiveofourown.org/users/therumjournals/gifts).



> Thank you to bondgirl for making me give more and knowing exactly where I wanted this to go.
> 
> Thank you to 7thgeisha for poking, prodding, and making sure I spell correctly.
> 
> Both these ladies are beyond reproach any errors are mine.

It's amazing how fast your perception of things can change.

It's hot, steamy, and empty in the locker room and Dylan's looking Brandon in the eye. All that he was after is within an arm's reach but suddenly not enough.

This was only a challenge, a game, a series of delicate manipulations calculated to bring him to this very place, flesh damp and mind fogged. Now he finds this is not what he wants at all, the goal has shifted. Dylan's played the game before but it's never gone quite like this. He isn't sure how he failed to realize until now, that things had changed. Just another exercise in self-destruction, with different drugs, getting him close to the normal that he could never hold onto.

Caught in his own game now, he only has a moment for indecision. Maybe there is something to that saying about curiosity killing the cat, or maybe Dylan is just really very unlucky. He's pretty sure the addictive personality doesn't help and that's how this all started, isn't it?

From day one he was fascinated by the Walshes, because people like _that_ seriously did not exist. They were so nice, Dylan thought they had to be covering up some serious dysfunction, to come off like that. He was curious so when Brandon wanted to be friends, Dylan rolled with it. They were all _that_ nice, fit for the Hallmark aisle, it turned out. Brandon was the nicest of the bunch.

Normally that would have been the end of Dylan's investigations. Then Sheryl came along and they were standing chest to chest, angry words mingling their breath. Rage turned up the volume on everything that was Brandon. Aggression, indignation, heat, intensity, envy all wrapped in the pretty that was Brandon Walsh, it was . . . hot. Dylan felt his anger slide seamlessly into lust, so much in those eyes. He knew he wanted to see where this would go.

Conveniently, Brenda walked in on him in the shower. She was so embarrassed yet there was something else in her eyes, and Dylan saw possibility. Brenda, Brandon it's not the same but close enough to give him some impulse control. So Brenda it was but Brandon was always there in his periphery. It's funny how he always thought of her as Brandon's sister and he knew enough about displacement to guess what that might mean. He thinks that she knew too. Still she went along for the ride and he doesn't really want to think about why. She'd caught him watching Brandon but only because she was watching too. They say twins have a special connection and he chalked it up to that. Brenda takes the edge off and he likes her, but she'll never be exactly what he needs. Most people would say that what he's doing isn't right or fair, but there is no point in ignoring what lurks beneath. Besides they've never been tempted by something as constant and intangible as Brandon's innocence.

In the beginning, Dylan thought he would get over it. Brandon wasn't the first guy to catch his eye, but he was the first to make Dylan wonder if he tasted like snow, with a freshness that's destroyed by the experiencing of it. That is why Dylan took his time. He wanted to savor what he would eventually consume. He liked the "too good to be true" that was Brandon. In fact, he had come to count on the calm and stability that Brandon brought to his life. That should have been enough to keep off this path, because snow melts fast in the SoCal sun. You can't have innocence and fuck it too. Sometimes he thought that it would be impossible to corrupt Brandon; that when you peeled back the layers there was goodness there and nothing more.

Dylan knew this game and he knew Brandon wouldn't have a chance unless Dylan gave him one. He did. Dylan never pushed too hard or too far, because he enjoys exactly where they are. The space where hands linger too long on shoulders, sweat slick and sun warmed, and more and more often Brandon leans into that touch. Dylan likes the way he can carelessly throw his arm around Brandon's shoulder and get an open and honest smile in return. Lately he's noted the change in that smile when his thumb brushes over a certain place under Brandon's left ear. That sweet smile falters at the edges and Brandon shivers and licks his lips. Dylan's cataloged the reaction so he can repeat the gesture. So maybe now Brandon anticipates his touch and that thought makes Dylan's pulse race.

Now, alone in the showers at West Beverly and the scenario is so cliché, Dylan would laugh.

Except that a moment ago it was all fun and games, but now Brandon's gaze is needy, questioning, lingering after a playful shove and Dylan can see in his eyes that moment when Brandon's thoughts slip, slide over the edge and click into every possible place. All the pieces are there - lust, want, fear, and something that implies a trust Dylan knows he doesn't deserve. This would be so easy right here, now all Dylan has to do is lean in and take. He can imagine Brandon - mouth pliant with shock for a few seconds before he responds, his grip on Dylan's arm tightening to bruise as he draws them together. Dylan's jerked off to this a thousand times, pushing Brandon up against the wall going to his knees and making Brandon come so hard he sees stars.

This could be sweet and easy, except that he actually likes Brandon, except that their friendship means Dylan has something to lose, except that he is tired of playing the corrupter. It's a thankless job. You're their god when your mouth makes them come like the star of a dirty movie in the dark of night but the devil when the credits roll in the sober light of day.

Dylan doesn't want this to be something Brandon can dream and deny. He wants Brandon to think about it and know exactly how badly this could end and want it anyway. He wants Brandon to choose, not acquiesce because he is caught in a moment of recognition and realization. The longer the wait, the bigger the risk, the sweeter the conquest, they're not yet ripe for ruin. When Brandon doesn't move Dylan raises an eyebrow. He puts his arms around Brandon's damp shoulders, lets his fingers brush that place behind his best friend's left ear, and laughs. Just that easily they are back to normal or at least the pretense of it.

Electricity still hangs in the air between them, almost palpable. They'll ignore it, until they can't. Dylan wonders how many more moments he can make it through. He wonders how long they'll slip and slide along the precipice, of something that could be revelation or regret. He wonders how long it will be before the game is won or lost


End file.
